


The Contract

by a_walking_shadow



Series: No one gets to hear my name and live [1]
Category: Confessions of Dorian Gray, Vienna (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 17:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: It was an ordinary contract. Some rich guy had his reputation ruined by some other rich guy, and was willing to pay good money to send his newfound enemy shuffling off this mortal coil.And so, Vienna Salvatori accepts the bounty that has been placed on Dorian Gray. He’s an upper-class party boy, by the looks of things. Money means he can pay for good security, but he might not even bother. It definitely won’t be anything that Vienna Salvatori, impossibly glamorous bounty hunter, won’t be able to handle. Easy money, really.Right?





	The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> I own absolutely nothing.

Unsurprisingly for a target with the amount of money Mr Gray has at his disposal, he barely exists in the public record. Searching his name reveals a handful of blurry photographs, all from the kind of exclusive events which cost millions to even get in the door. There’s no record of what he actually does for a living, although those same blurry photos do seem to suggest he is known to the upper echelons of antique traders and art collectors. Known intimately, by the looks of things.

Searching the less public records reveals practically nothing, too. The same set of images. A dozen bank accounts under a variety of names but assumed to belong to him, almost all untouched for decades. His name is attached to one of the most high security vaults in the Bank of Karabraxos, which is definitely of interest, but not her job to deal with- and frankly, their security systems are daunting, even to her.

Both searches stumble into the same issue. After a few relevant sources, the search defaults to results about a fictional character from a 19th Century Earth novel. “Dorian Gray” is probably an assumed name, then, although who he might really be remains a mystery.

‘Computer.’  
‘Yes, Miss Salvatori?’  
‘What were the last known coordinates of Mr Gray?’  
‘He was seen boarding a short-distance transport in Vega Station four nights ago. No intended destination was logged with their systems.’  
‘Short distance, huh? Show me everything within range. He can’t have gotten that far.’

A few minutes later, she’s left with only half a dozen options. If he wanted to travel further afield, he would have taken a bigger transport, and nothing else in this region of space could possibly interest him. She’s able to eliminate two of them based on the fact that there’s a civil war going on- surely he wouldn’t be that stupid. In all honesty, none of the remaining planets seem like his kind of place.  
Then she notices that one of them has just finished with the civil war, and is throwing a party to celebrate.  
Biggest party in the galaxy. Of course that’s where he’ll be.

She arrives mid-morning, to find the vast majority of the population is either incredibly hungover, already getting drunk, or both. No one challenges her as she makes her way through the city- in fact, the only person who pays attention to her is an exceedingly drunk fellow who shoves something alcoholic into her hands and tells her to celebrate their newfound freedom. Even local law enforcement looks remarkably unconcerned. She sees several pickpockets make off with the valuables of oblivious drunks, yet the officer on the opposite corner seems to be enjoying the sunshine far too much to care.

As she wanders the streets, taking in the broken windows and smoke-damaged awnings, whistling shopkeepers adjusting their wares as they step over the blackout drunks in the gutters, she can’t help but think that there’s something almost cheerful about it. There’s a brightness and vitality that somehow diminishes the cracked walls and occasional burnt-out vehicles.

It’s not at all what the enigmatic Mr Gray would have come for, though, so she keeps looking.

‘Excuse me?’  
‘Oh, hello there. How can I help you on this fine morning?’  
She smiles. She could get used to law enforcement like this- so much more pleasant than the usual rabble she deals with. So much less suspicious. And sober.  
‘I just landed here with a large amount of money and an overwhelming desire to spend it in style. I don’t suppose you could recommend a hotel?’  
‘Of course I can! You’re woman of refinement, I can tell. You’ll want the Galactic Star, just over the river. You can’t miss it- centre of the celebrations, it is!’  
‘Thank you, officer!’  
‘No worries, ma’am! Here’s to the revolution!’  
‘Ah-yes. Right. Three cheers to the, uh, end of tyranny!’  
‘I’ll drink to that, Miss!’

Brief discussions with two other locals yield the same result- apparently, the Galactic Star is the place to be for anyone who’s anyone, or has money and is pretending to be. Undoubtedly, her target will be there- which makes her job incredibly easy.  
The Galactic Star is a chain of upper class hotels, and the buildings- from the location of the service shafts to the sealant used on the windows- are identical. If she can find out what room he’s staying in, getting in and out is going to be a breeze.

She spends the afternoon scouting out the area- or at least, trying to. By three o’clock, the streets are too busy for her to achieve much. It’s still going to be light for hours, but the party seems to be in full swing- restaurants and bars are overflowing onto the streets, bringing with them the sound of a dozen different bands of varying quality. The end result is an oppressive press of bodies on the sidewalk and a cacophony of noise which would be painful if it wasn’t quite so earnestly cheerful. Stepping into the street lessens the crowd, but comes with the downside of dozens of amateur dancers showcasing both their enthusiasm and their lack of skill. After a laughing pensioner stomps all over her feet for the eighth time, she gives up and decides to brave the sidewalk instead.

At the centre of the celebrations is the Galactic Star. The music emanating from the foyer is louder than almost anything else in the city, and of obviously slightly more refined taste. A pair of security guards stand at the doors, but neither seem to be making any move to restrict partygoers from the hotel bar, and they let her pass without question.

The crowd lessens as soon as she passes the bar, and has dropped to almost nothing by the time she works her way past the last set of stairs leading to the ballroom. There’s a woman working on the reception desk, looking incredibly bored and somewhat put out to be missing the celebrations. She visibly cheers up at the sight of Vienna approaching.

‘Can I help you, ma’am?’  
‘Quite possibly, yes. I realise this is quite unorthodox, but I just got news that a friend of mine is visiting, and I think he’s staying here-’  
‘Of course, ma’am. What’s his name?’  
‘Dorian Gray?’  
‘One moment… I’m afraid we don’t have any guests by that name.’  
‘You don’t? Really? Unless… You don’t happen to have a John Gray, by any chance? Dorian always did love to travel incognito. Or maybe a Charlie White?’  
This time, the woman doesn’t even glance at the screens. She just grins at Vienna. ‘He’s in the penthouse suite. Definitely up there now, he had a bottle of wine delivered to his room half an hour ago. A bit of an odd one, your friend, everyone else is making the most of the festivities down here. Would you like me to call his room for you?’  
‘No, no- would it be possible for you to let me up to surprise him? It’s been so long, I want to see his face when he realises who it is.’ The woman hesitates for a long moment, eyes darting to the screen. This request is against protocol, Vienna knows, especially for someone as rich as Dorian Gray, but security has been so lax at this planet that she’s willing to risk it. The worst that can happen is she needs to go into the alleyway behind the building, duck into the kitchen, and work her way up through the service lifts instead.   
Eventually, the woman nods. ‘The lift is to the left. Don’t tell anyone I let you up, though.’  
Vienna gives her a delighted grin- not something she needs to fake- and turns towards the lift. Then, just to cement her cover, she hesitates for a moment and lets her gaze linger on the vase of flowers on the desk.  
The receptionist laughs outright at that, and signals for her to take one. She pulls a single flower out of the arrangement- an orange lily for confidence, pride and wealth. She’s not quite committed enough to the ruse to actually give him something symbolising love. He’ll make her rich, though. Very rich.  
With one last smile for the receptionist, she heads to the elevator.

After what seems like an eternity, the lift reaches the penthouse, and the doors slide open. There is a man standing on the other side of the room, staring out of the floor-length windows as dusk settles over the city. From this high up, the damage isn’t quite as noticeable as at ground level, and the roar of the crowds in the streets below has faded to a distant murmur. He could definitely find worse places to stand with a glass of wine in his hand and admire the view.  
‘Dorian Gray?’ It’s more out of courtesy that she asks than an actual doubt as to his identity. He places the glass of wine down on a table at his elbow, and turns towards her.  
‘Welcome. You must be-’  
She shoots him between the ribs as soon as she gets a look at his face. Well, that was absurdly easy.

A moment later, before she can even properly stow the gun, she catches a flicker of movement over the city. Her head jerks towards the windows. Where, moments ago, the sky was exchanging blue for black, now it is lit up in a myriad of colours. Fireworks. The rumble of the explosion comes a moment later. She hesitates slightly, then wanders over to the window, near where Gray had been standing. If this really is going as well as it seems, she can afford to take a few minutes to enjoy the view. If it isn't, people are going to start shooting at her anyway, so she might as well take her time.  

‘Beautiful, isn’t it, Miss Salvatori?’ His voice is barely more than a murmur, but he’s close enough that his curls brush across her face when she spins around. She shoots him in the stomach, suddenly thankful that she hadn’t holstered her gun yet.  
Dorian Gray goes flying through the air, landing on the bed with a grunt. He stares at the ceiling for a moment, dazed, then sits up and straitens his coat.  
‘As I was saying, there is something beautiful about it, don’t you think? The people here are running out of food, yet they dropped rationing the moment the revolution ended, just so that they could throw a party. They certainly can’t afford to keep that defence system of theirs running. But instead of finding some other way to defend themselves, they launch their only weapons into the sky, just for the pleasure of it. Oh- did you think those explosions were fireworks? They’re missiles. Here they are, preserving beauty over their very lives. I almost think I could admire them for it.’  
‘How- you- _how in the twelve galaxies are you not dead?’_  
‘Oh, Vienna, Vienna. You’re really going to ask me that? I’ve lived for such a long time now, and I am so very, very bored. I was hoping you could be interesting!’  
She does not like the way he says her name. Not only the fact that he’s saying it at all- exactly how he learned it is a concerning puzzle she’s scrambling to solve, but also the growling, almost possessive manner in which he rolls it around his tongue. Vienna is used to being the most dangerous person in the room. She can’t shake the suspicion that this may no longer be the case.  
Lowering the gun takes far more willpower than it ought to, but there’s no outward evidence of the way her heart is pounding as she picks up the wine bottle and pours herself a glass. Dorian looks almost pleased by this, and refraining from punching the sly smile off of his face takes more willpower than it really should, too.  
He knows her name. The person she has been hired to kill- and apparently, that’s not quite as simple as it should be- knows her name. The only way he could have found that out-  
‘So you, what. Got bored, caused a major scandal, then put out a contract on yourself to see who would come and claim it? Did you think dodging assassination attempts would be a fun hobby or something?’  
‘You were the one I was interested in, Vienna. An assassin- no, bounty hunter, my apologies- that no one seems to know the name of? There’s mention of you all over these systems, everywhere up to and including the collapse of the Drashani Empire. An unknowable shadow, stretching across history. Something like myself.’  
‘So you put a bounty on your own head, hoping I would turn up.’  
‘and you did. Don’t worry, I’ll pay, of course. I must admit, I was expecting your assassination attempt to be slightly more subtle than walking in the front door with a gun. You managed to surprise me. Not much can do that, anymore.’  
‘There’s just one problem with this idea of yours.’  
‘Oh?’  
‘You see, I’ve got a little rule. No one gets to hear my name and live. And you said my name.’    
‘Ah. And that isn’t something you’re going to be able to change, at least not if you go after me here. I suppose you could try keeping me imprisoned somewhere instead, for all the good that would do you. I would find a way out eventually, and I assure you, you do not want me as an enemy.’  
She tilts her head to the side, considering. He smiles in return, eyes cold as ice, and raises his wine glass in a toast. Clearly, he thinks he’s won.  
Idiot.  
It’s obvious from his stance that he’s had some kind of combat training, but he’s no match for her- especially since he hardly puts up a fight. Clearly, his modus operandi involves dying and then popping back up again rather than direct confrontation. That’s fine.  
It only takes her a few moments to pin him to the floor, and a few more to tear one of the sheets from the bed. Surprisingly enough, he stops struggling the moment she starts tying his hands together.  
‘I assure you, if you had just asked, then I may have been amenable-’  
What, really? Dealing with this guy is proving to be far more trouble than it’s worth. Especially since she isn’t going to get paid.  
Rolling her eyes at his antics, she makes sure the bonds on his ankles are secure- strong enough that he won’t be able to break them without a lot of fiddly work, even if he can get his hands on something sharp. Then she shoves him out of the window.

‘Alright, Vienna. Think. Penthouse suite, they’ll definitely know I’m here now, something, well, someone, I need to collect from outside the front door…’  
There are only two lifts which reach the penthouse floor. The service lift isn’t an option- it stops two floors down, where she would have to climb into another lift, which is operated remotely from the front desk. That one stops three floors below that, and she’d have to change again. There are just too many options for someone to notice that she’s on the way down- and they’ll definitely be looking for her, now.  
A quick glance down into the street reveals a very distant Dorian, moving somewhat feebly. There’s no way that any human without his weird abilities would survive it. It seems like the revellers have left him with a wide berth, probably in shock that he’s still alive.  
The road is too wide for her to jump to the next building. So unless she wants to climb around the entire building on the inch-wide ledge the windows rest on, it looks like her only options for getting out are inside.  
Running out of options, she slams the button for the main lift. Luckily, it seems she beat people on the ground floor to summoning it, as it starts ascending immediately. Either that or they’re already in it and are going to ambush her when the door opens. Just in case, she ducks behind one of the ornamental bookcases, weapon in hand.  
‘Come on, come on, you can do it, just a little bit faster, come on…’ That’s definitely the sound of a police hovercar cutting across the rumble of the fireworks, coming in her direction. Damnit.  
After what feels like an eternity, the lift finally arrives… and is empty. First piece of good news all day, it feels like. At least the first piece of good news not engineered by the man she was sent to kill.  
She presses the button marked “2”, and continues to mutter encouragement to the lift as it inches closer to the ground.  
There are people on the second floor, but all of them appear to be cleaners (actual cleaners too, not random assassins or officers pretending to be them, which is nice) and a quick ‘excuse me, coming through’ somehow actually convinces them to step aside.  
She pauses at the window for a moment. Dorian is visible below her, sitting up in the centre of a circle of broken glass, and he’s using one of the larger shards to saw through the bonds on his wrists. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be in any state to run off just yet.  
‘well, here goes.’ And, with that, she throws herself out of the window.

Getting him back to her ship is a challenge, especially since her jump out of the window is immediately tracked by the searchlights of the hovercar which had been focusing on the penthouse. Dorian, after a futile initial attempt to wriggle out of his bonds, apparently accepts the indignity of being carried through the streets. Luckily for her, he’s pretty skinny. The partygoers at the base of the hotel had fled before she jumped out of the second floor, and further away, it’s easy to melt into the crowd. She barely even gets any odd looks for running through town with a man thrown over her shoulder.

‘Computer.’  
‘Yes, Miss Salvatori? I notice that Dorian Gray is still alive.’  
‘No kidding. I need you to create a memory box in Mr Gray’s mind. Put in all his knowledge of me. The last few hours, plus however long he’s been planning this. My name, everything he’s ever heard about me, even if he doesn’t realise I was the one responsible. Every last bit of it.’  
Gray actually looks almost surprised for a moment. Then he just looks angry.  
‘I said, Miss Salvatori, that you do not want to make an enemy of me.’  
‘Yeah, well, you don’t want to make an enemy of me either. Did you actually think you were untouchable because I couldn’t kill you? Oh- Computer.’  
‘Commencing construction of memory box. What phrase would you like to use as the key?’  
‘… Vienna Salvatori.’

‘The process is complete.’  
‘Thanks, computer.’ She kicks him out the door, slams it shut again before he can get his bearings and possibly a look at her face. ‘Initiate launch procedures, now!’  
She sinks down into the pilot’s seat. ‘Any chance of a job that doesn’t involve someone literally unkillable?’  
‘As it happens, Miss Salvatori, a new assignment crystal has just arrived…’


End file.
